Four shots

Lyla's 15-month checkup was today. I am happy to report that her height, weight, and head circumference percentiles (90th, 75th, and 75th, respectively) all suggest she will one day put herself through law school by winning purses in underground cage fights.

She also got four shots, which I believe were the H1N1 booster, one for tetanus, one for maybe MMR or something, and the fourth one was, let's see, oh yes: an anti-tattoo serum. It takes away any temptation she might have in college to get a tattoo.

We skipped the pre-shot binky dipped in sugar water because non-bedtime binkies are like so passé. We also skipped the post-shot acetaminophen because Julie read in a prestigious medical journal that it could decrease the child's immunity to whatever the shot was for, tetanus, MMR, tattoo-temptation, etc.

(It's actually one of those silly mommy magazines. The blurb doesn't cite any specific study, and the magazine's cover boasts the headline "Eat more, weigh less! Nope, we're not kidding.")

So midway through the second poke, as I held her down on the table, Lyla threw open the mouth on her 75th-percentile head and shouted things that, if translated into English, would totally get her sent to the principal's office.

She was better in about 40 seconds. Oh, and not to brag or anything, but at this age they look for babies to say 5 words or so. Lyla says over 50, and none of them are swear words. Fuck yeah!